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"I Think, Therefore I Ant."
September 5
ASK
FRANKENSTEIN’S MONSTER...
Advice
for the lovelorn, stitch-faced, bolt headed, confused, possibly Transylvanian
and all monstrous stops in-between and between the in-between.
Ask Frank!
Hi
There Frankenstein,
I’ve been invited to a wedding and I’d rather not go. How do I get out of
it in the most graceless of manners?
Frankenstein’s
Monster Say:
Hmmmmaghhhhhh! Frankenstein’s
Monster says “too bad.” Like
crazed villager with pitchfork is inevitable, so is wedding. You go. Make sure
gift is equal in price to what you drink, especially if it open bar!!!!!! Even
if you don’t know bride or groom. That important! If wedding costs too much
without return payoff, family get mad like Frankenstein on bad hair day. And
everyday a bad hair day for Frankenstein. And that piss him off! It sound like
this: Mrrraggghhhhhhhhhhhh!
September 4
Your
Sport’s Team Will Always Let You Down
Your
sport’s team will always let you down. They probably won’t ever win a
trophy so that means you spend your entire life routing for a bunch of loser
millionaires. And who wants to cheer for a millionaire anyway? Let alone a
loser one. Your sport’s team will always let you down. Your sport’s team
is first and foremost a corporation. Your sport’s team isn’t about you. Oh
sure, you can call them your team, you can bleed their colours and when they
win you can scream “we won!” but other than yelling those words at a TV
that doesn’t hear you, you really didn’t do anything, did you? Your
sport’s team will always let you down. It’s a constant reminder that
you’re not an athlete and that you’re going to die. Its average age is 23.
You get older, your sport’s team doesn’t. That’s not what I’m looking
for in a friend. If I want to hang with Dorian Grey I’ll read the book. And
let’s be honest, reading sucks. And so what if your sport’s team does win
the big cup? You get to charge downtown, watch some idiots break windows and
feel good about yourself and then about a week after the parade you sink into
a major league post celebration depression. That’s right sports fans, the
ride is over, life still blows and your sport’s team will always let you
down.
September 2
That’s A Lousy Thing To Do To An Innocent Kid
Another day another dullard: I’m minding my own business and thinking that
I’ll never understand how Christians can support a religion that uses a
scene of capital punishment as its central image. I bump into an old friend
and her 3 year old son.
I ask, “What’s his name?”
She tells me, “Balsam.”
Why? I mean what the hell did he do
to deserve that? It must have been pretty bad to name her kid after a
deciduous tree known for its aromatic resin. Was this decision made during her
48th consecutive hour of labor? As she was giving birth was she
screaming out, “You gigantic headed bastard, go ahead and tear my body
apart. I’ll get even. I’ll name ya Balsam! Ha ha ha!”
Now I’ve always been a fan of revenge. It’s been said there’s a cesspool
of rotting monsters behind my slow boyish smile; but I’d never name my kid
after a shrub. If you must name your son after something ridiculous then why
not at least name him after his penis? Nothing’s more ridiculous than a
penis. This way, when he grows up to be a total “Dick” at least he’s
truly become the thing you named him.
With
apologies to Vladimir Nabokov & E. Annie Proulx
September 1 (Rabbits)
Googley Poetry
In the spirit/search of having fun with Google, let’s indulge in some
Googley Poetry. Here’s one
you can try at home: simply type
your name followed by the words looks
like and do it all in quotations. Here’s
a few of the fun examples that I found when trying, “Mike Looks Like”
Mike Looks Like (The Google Poem)
Mike looks like a normal person, until he takes his
shirt off
then mike looks like shit thrown off a balcony
Mike looks like Mitch Bucannin from Baywatch let us know in your posts.
Were having a little debate.=)
this is what mike looks like in my mind
sorry guys but mike looks like a monkey
Mike looks like John Candy ...
Mike looks like a freak with no hair. Cameron looks like crap in that
dress. Mike’s hair must be for a role. ...
Mike looks like a crazy maniac here. If you can think of something he
might be saying, e-mail me and I'll yell it at him the next time I see him. ...
Mike looks like his child
Mike looks like tons of fun. Have you tried it on an ice rink yet?
Mike looks like Vernon Kaye with a splash of Guest Name.
Mike looks like he's expressing some dissent to what Maura's just
said.;.
Mike looks like he may be kicking ass again! ... Mike looks
like a mole to me. And, the ironic part is that he's not the mole, but he
sure looks like one ...
(I’ll say it again)
Mike looks like John Candy. Not sure how I feel about that ...
Unfortunately, just two answers further down is: Mike looks like a
crazy maniac. Go figure. ...
Mike looks like a Puerto Rican from the City
Mike looks like the business man… cuz he is bruddha! ...
Mike, looks like you're advocating building desktop apps in anything else
than MM technology ;)
Mike looks like a very nice chappie,
Mike, looks like you're back in the middle of the pack
Mike looks like he doesn't quite get it. So no change.
Mike looks like he's rather be somewhere else...
August 31
A Guy Walks Into A Bar…
A guy walks into a bar.
A pig walks into a bar. A crocodile walks into a bar. This couple walks into a
bar. A man walks into a bar. A guy 4'6" tall walks into a bar. Two
piggies walk into a bar. A guy walks into a bar with an octopus. Jesus Christ
walks into a bar. A woman walks into a bar. Two donkeys walk into a bar. A
vagrant walks into a bar. These 3 girls (blonde, brunette and redhead) walk
into a bar and then a cop comes in. A priest, a rabbi, and a lawyer walk into
a bar. So, two jumper cables walk into a bar. Two guys walk into a bar. A
Pollock walks into a bar. An Englishman, American, and Irishman all walk into
a bar. This bear walks into this bar. This bloke, a cat and an ostrich walked
into a bar. A lady walks into a bar with a duck. A man walks into a bar with a
pie. Two cannibals walk into a bar. Bacon and eggs walk into a bar. A bum
walks into a bar. So, a five-dollar bill walks into a bar. A horse walks into
a bar. A rabbit walks into a bar. This punk walks into a bar. A neutron walks
into a bar. This delegate walks into a bar. A penguin walks into a bar. Two
atoms go into a bar. Two men walked into a bar. A man walks into a bar
carrying a battered briefcase. Three ostriches walked into a bar. Three
vampires went into a bar. God, the Devil and Bob walk into a bar. Two lawyers
walked into a bar. Two communist dictators and a screenwriter walk into a bar.
Two Leprechauns walk into a bar. A woman walks into a bar with a dog under her
arm. A termite walked into a bar. The Lone Ranger and Tonto walked into a bar.
Two flies walk into a bar. A cowboy walks into a bar. A guy, his mother, his
aunt, his cousin, his sister, and Candice all walk into a bar. This guy walks
into a bar with his friend. A fairly unattractive short guy walks into a bar.
3 guys walk into a bar. This guy walks into a bar with his dog. Luke Skywalker
and Obi Wan Kenobi walk into a bar. A drunk walks into a bar. A rather
confident man walks into a bar. A big, burly bastard walks into a bar with a
snapping turtle underneath his arm. An alien walks into a bar. This horny guy
walks into a bar. A duck walks into a bar. A guy that has leprosy walks into a
bar. A crab walks into a bar. A blonde walks into a bar. A lady walks into a
bar. An Englishman, a Scot and an Irishman walk into this bar. An old
Englishman walks into a bar. An American guy walks into a bar. A well dressed
doctor walks into a bar. A man walks into a bar with a steak and kidney pie on
his head. A string walks into a bar. This depressed man walked into a bar. A
blind man walks into a bar. A skeleton walks into a bar.
(Thanks to Spud for the Avery hand puppet)
Tags
September
28th was the three week anniversary of Julius Sporne’s employment with
Ultracorp, and in celebration, that morning he opted for a coffee and low-fat
muffin as opposed to his usual, more Spartan, decaf coffee and non-fat muffin.
Julius admired the beautiful day outside of his kitchen window and glowed as
the low-fat, undecaffinated goodness filled his mouth. It was okay to live a
little once in a while; after all, he was an Ultracorp man.
Ultracorp
was, as its name would suggest, a huge, powerhouse of a corporation. Its
legendary and somewhat shady history was fraught with the traditions of aiming
high and screwing over family members. Ultracorp’s head office was home to
over 1700 employees who had been encouraged to accept the fact that: like it
or not, they were part of the Ultracorp family.
Situated
in its own industrial park, Ultracorp was a towering cross of Modern and
Gothic design, its mixture of glass, steel and 17th century gargoyles was
indescribably grotesque. Julius had landed a job in the accounts receivable
department and was both comforted and terrified by the vast scope of Ultracorp.
The fact that one arm of Ultracorp made cogs rather upset Julius. In fact, the
cog had been the product that had put Ultracorp on the map, and Julius’s
newly issued business cards included his name, title and a tiny cog logo.
Usually a large fan of irony, Julius was vaguely unsettled by this particular
example. While he disliked the fact that in a company of this magnitude his
triumphs would go unnoticed, he was comforted by the knowledge that his
failures would share the same fate. When he tallied up the columns of his
triumphs and failures, Julius was forced to come to the sad conclusion that he
had made a wise career move.
His
first week had been spent in an intensive orientation session with 23 other
new, Ultracorp family members. Their orientation guide, Sally Clements, taught
them about Ultracorp corporate philosophy, Ultracorp corporate history and
Ultracorp corporate plans for the future. She gave them literature on
workplace safety, sexual harassment and ergonomics. She distributed maps,
floor plans, directions to the washrooms, information on hours of business,
vacations, pension plans, medical benefits and complimentary coffee mugs.
She lectured at large on dress codes and insurance plans. She showed
slides and short animated films. There
were flow charts and organisational charts, pie charts and puppet shows. She
fielded their questions, snapped their photos and collected their urine
samples. Julius thought he loved her. He saw Sally in mythological terms -- as
some majestic and heavenly Ultra-nymph of business and sexual orientation.
Sally,
of course, was not a nymph. Nevertheless,
as far as Julius was concerned, she was as close to perfect as possible. She
did such an ideal job in encapsulating and presenting the company’s
philosophy it almost seemed as though Ultracorp itself had designed and
engineered her. Sally was unflappable and seemingly without the need of food,
rest or other, more human, requirements. She was perky of course, and
attractive. It would have seemed wrong to have the job if you weren’t. The
first thing he noticed about her was her hair. Red as the company logo, it was
stacked on her head in a sort of architectural triumph. Its intricate series
of folds and twists resembled a nest of poisonous snakes.
Julius found this terrifyingly provocative and didn’t dare to look
her in the eyes.
There
was very little of Sally herself that radiated through her Ultracorp persona.
From the extensive make-up to her expensive nylons, everything that showed was
adornment. Julius wondered if all the women of Ultracorp were as sophisticated
as her.
He
was saddened to see the week come to an end and finally looked for some kind
of sign in her dangerous eyes, but when Sally turned him over to his immediate
supervisor, Clark Remborth, for office placement and job specific training, it
was painfully clear to Julius that there was no sign. The fact that she had to
read his name off a list shattered any romantic illusions that he had been
harbouring.
His
immediate supervisor, Clark Remborth, seemed affable and it appeared, unlike
Sally, to take an instant and sincere liking to Julius. Clark Remborth was the
very model of a modern major executive. Attractive and trim,
Clark
had the unmistakable air of one on their way places -- big places. Julius
admired
Clark
’s perfect teeth and uniform bangs, even though watching both perfections at
the same time hurt his eyes.
Clark
made Julius feel both at ease and important.
Clark
wanted to know about Julius, about where he saw himself in the future of
Ultracorp. Julius did his best to answer his questions and sensed that Clark
was satisfied when, after 15 minutes of easy banter, Clark stood up and told
Julius that perhaps they had better get down to business. Julius was shown his
desk, introduced to the 42 other young up and comers who held the same
position as he did and handed a mountain of information to be read ASAP.
Before returning to his office, Clark introduced Julius to Juanita, the woman
that
Clark
informed him would be his Ultra-training buddy. Juanita had been in accounts
receivable for 7 years and Julius was advised to view her as a mentor,
resource, confessor, advisor and friend. Julius was slightly disillusioned --
he had hoped that maybe
Clark
would be his mentor, resource, confessor, advisor, and, most importantly,
friend.
Juanita
was the first and only crack that Julius noticed in the Ultracorp facade. His
Ultra-training buddy did not seem to embrace the “Ultracorp...Ultralife”
philosophy as roundly as Clark and Sally. She viewed Julius with a mixture of
suspicion, concern and flat-out distaste, and the entirety of her week’s
interaction with Julius consisted of a half-dozen grunted instructions and
numerous indecipherable hand gestures. Julius decided it was best to stay out
of her way, and by the end of week two he had settled into the Ultracorp
routine quite nicely.
Julius
wiped the crumbs of his low-fat muffin from his face and glanced at his watch
-- he had better hurry if he was going to get to the office on time.
Ultracorp’s head office was made up of three, interconnected office
buildings. Julius worked on the 12th floor of “Atlantis.”
The other buildings were known by similarly pretentious and frightening
names, and Julius had not yet worked up the nerve to visit them.
The
bus dropped Julius directly in front of the “Parthenon” and from there it
was just a short jot to his office and a promptish 9:07 am arrival. Julius was
on the elevator to the 12th floor when he realized what he had done. In his
rush, Julius had forgotten his security access cards and identification tags.
His clammy hands travelled from pocket to pocket in hopes of finding them, but
Julius knew where they were -- they were sitting on top of his television set
next to his converter, wallet and a half read issue of Wrestling Weekly
magazine. Julius was overcome with nausea and panic. Without his access cards
he could not get into the main door of the accounts receivable office. Julius
looked up to the security cameras situated at the top of the elevator’s
corners. The elevator doors opened and Julius stepped out. He had no idea what
to do next.
With
the exception of the buzzing of fluorescent lights the corridors were quiet.
Julius stared helplessly at the locked doors. If he waited, someone from his
department would come out. Or should he knock? Bang on the door? He seriously
doubted that saying “Open Sesame” would do the trick. Julius was troubled
about drawing attention to himself. He didn’t want
Clark
to know that he was late and that he was without his access cards. It was this
kind of personal and professional sloppiness that Julius preferred to keep
hidden from his employers. His watch read 9:13. There had to be an answer.
Some way of getting to his desk without exposing his mistake. Julius looked to
his left, then his right, left, right, all he saw were the many missed
opportunities of Julius Sporne.
Julius
was desperate and land-locked. An immoveable piece of a man, stuck on the 12th
floor outside of accounts receivable. He wondered what Clark would do in a
situation like this, but
Clark
would never find himself in a situation like this.
What would Sally say? Sally! That was it. Her name came to him like the
damned salvation he had been praying for. She could help him. Sally had
arranged for his cards in the first place. Julius rushed back toward the
elevator. Sally was on the 7th floor somewhere and he was going to find her,
or die trying.
As
Julius rode the elevator he was uncomfortably aware about his lack of
identification. In his three weeks at Ultracorp he had never once been asked
to present his tags but he was worried now.
Julius had seen the security cameras posted everywhere in the building,
watching him and the others. He’d
secretly glanced at the large ominous security guards, their muscular bodies
coated in black leather, and dark ray bands wrapped around their eyes. The
other people on the elevator all had their cards dangling from chains worn
around their necks. During his first week, Julius had privately scoffed at the
chains viewing them -- originally, he thought --as some sort of corporate
albatross. He didn’t feel that way any more. Julius kept his hands across
his chest, his eyes to the floor and asked someone to push 7 for him.
When
the elevator eventually stopped on the 7th floor, Julius staggered out of the
floating coffin. He tried to
orient himself but soon realized that he could not remember exactly where
Sally’s office was located. Julius became more and more frantic. He started
down the hallway, the corridors wound and wound around the floor, Julius felt
himself falling deeper into the maze. The bends in the hallway were as complex
as the coils in Sally’s hair. He decided to give up on Sally, return to the
12th floor and knock on the Accounts Receivable door, but now discovered he
was unable to find his way back to the elevator. Jesus Christ! This wasn’t
good. Julius was beyond terror now. He
could feel his shirt clinging to his damp chest and yet his mouth was so dry.
Julius thought he could hear and feel the blood pumping through his brain. He
stopped, exhausted and dizzy and leaned against a wall. He thought he was
going to faint. He sat down and put his head between his legs.
Julius felt a sharp crack on the back of his skull.
Julius
awoke with a tremendous headache. Immediately his mind started to pose and
answer questions as best it could. What had happened? He had fainted. Or had
he? Was that a bump on his head? Yes it was. Why was his hair so sticky?
Was that blood? Had he fallen? Or had he been hit? Hit? Why? And where
was he now? That was perhaps the most pressing and confusing question of them
all. Julius was shrouded by darkness. He lay on his stomach and slowly started
to move his arms outward to investigate his surroundings. The floor was
concrete and unwholesomely cold to the touch.
After a few minutes his eyes started to adjust and he could see now
that he was in a small room, more of a box really. It was roughly 6’ by 6’
and 8’ tall. Three of the walls were solid brick while the fourth appeared
to be a wooden door with three small bars at eye level. He pressed his face up
to it and tried to silence his breathing so that he could listen for some
clues as to what was going on. He heard nothing at first, but after a moment
thought he sensed people...people yelling. Suddenly the door flew open and a
flood of light and screams came pouring in. Julius blocked his eyes with his
arms and felt himself struck in the chest. He fell backward to the floor and
curled up in a ball. A second later the door was swung shut and it was all
over.
When
Julius dared to open his eyes again he noticed he was no longer alone in the
room. Next to the door were three grimy bowls. He edged over and investigated.
One of the bowls was filled with water, one contained a small portion of dried
nuts, figs and raisins and the third was empty. Obviously this would be the
bowl where the nuts and water finally came to rest after their voyage through
his digestive system. If this was Clark’s idea of some sort of initiation it
had gone way too far. Julius picked up a small handful of nuts and began to
try to make sense of it all.
As
far as Julius could fathom this was, obviously, some sort of grave and unholy
mistake and in order to rectify that mistake he would have to bring it to the
attention of whomever was on the opposite side of the door. His mind then
began to wander into more frightening scenarios. What if Ultracorp was
involved in some sort of unsavoury scientific research that required human
subjects? Their record with Amnesty was spotty, to say the least. What if his
hiring had been nothing more than a ruse, a way to lure subjects into this
nefarious labyrinth? Ultracorp knew everything about Julius Sporne, they knew
he was white, single with no living family, and even though they shouldn’t
have, knew his religion. Ultracorp probably suspected he was gay, and whether
this was true or not it didn’t matter. What did matter was that they knew he
wouldn’t be missed by anyone. Julius chomped on the nuts and figs furiously.
This was bad. This was very bad.
He
tried to be strong, tried to be brave but eventually Julius could no longer
bear his captivity or his own imaginings about its meaning. Julius pounded on
the door and screamed as loudly as he could -- begging, pleading to be
released. After several minutes he heard the jangling of a key in the door.
Julius was more prepared this time and immediately withdrew to the back of his
cell. He strained his eyes and was able to make out a large, smock clad
figure. Before he was able to register anything else a water hose was turned
on and he was knocked to the floor by its blast. And then more darkness, this
time mingled with his sobs.
Julius
lost track of time after that but felt it was almost two days before he was
removed from the room. He’d been
hosed down periodically and his food dish was replenished twice. The worst
part though, was the way he was forced to pass time -- wondering what in the
name of God was going on.
When
the door opened for the last time, Julius barely flinched. He was already
lying down so he simply turned himself toward the wall to assure that his back
caught the brunt of the expected blast of water. When nothing happened Julius
imagined for a fleeting second that maybe it was all over, that he would be
all right. Two figures then entered the room. He tried to get up, but they
quickly dropped a restraint of some sort around his neck, tightened it and
began to drag him out. Once out of the room, Julius realized the extent that
his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness. He saw nothing but blurs as he
felt his body secured on a cold table and his wrists and ankles manacled. He
saw the filmy silhouette of a syringe, shooting a long thin line of fluid from
its tip and make it’s way toward him. Julius fought as hard as he could, but
what little strength he had possessed two days ago had withered to nothing. A
black hunk of plastic was jammed into his mouth, Julius felt the needle slip
into his flesh, his mind began to submerge into the cold depths of its effect.
Sometime later he was unshackled and his limp body was dragged across the
floor.
Julius
saw doors and corridors but had no idea where he was or where he was going to
be taken. He could see the men carrying him now. They were grim faced, but not
what Julius would call classically evil. They didn’t have scars or elongated
cigarette holders. They were entirely without artificial limbs, limps or
noticeable foreign accents. Julius was taking a small comfort in this fact
when suddenly they came to stop in front of a door identified as “Sub Base
9” Julius bit his tongue. This was most definitely in the “classically
evil” category.
The
door was opened and Julius was ushered into a long and narrow room with heavy
brick walls. Bare, hanging light bulbs lit cages on each side of a pathway
that ran down the middle of the room. Julius was saddened to see that inside
the cages were other people. He was marched down the corridor past cage after
cage and saw men and women sleeping, talking and crying. When his captors
arrived at cage T-7, the lock was opened and Julius was thrown in. The men
twisted the key, locked him in, turned, walked back down the corridor and left
the room.
Julius
took in the new and lurid surroundings in more detail. The people in the cages
were filthy and unkempt, but all wore some sort of soiled business attire.
They looked like corporate panhandlers. Julius noticed two men that appeared
to be couriers, and a woman who may have been a caterer. There was a strange
comfort that he felt in no longer being alone and for the first time since
this miserable ordeal had begun Julius started to optimistically think that
there was a way out. He turned and looked at his new home, his new cage, and
let out a small yelp when he saw Terence Ozolins sitting in the opposite
corner of his cage and grinning at him.
Terence
had joined Ultracorp the same week as Julius, and had undergone the
Sallyentation with him. Julius
crouched down and looked at Terence closely. Terence didn’t even wait for
Julius to ask. For the next ten minutes he explained all that he knew to
Julius, which wasn’t much. Terence told Julius that this was the place where
people without tags were brought; it was as a holding area until they could be
identified and released -- those that were identified and released. He
explained that all newcomers spent two days in “the closet” to ensure that
they weren’t infectious and then were moved out into the general population.
Julius sat silently, shaking his head in disbelief, but clearly believing
every word.
Terence
had just finished filling Julius in on the details when an extremely
authorative looking woman in glasses and a white lab coat entered the room and
walked down the corridor toward their cage. To Julius’s amazement, every
person in the cells stood, pressed themselves against the chain link and
watched her every move. Their faces seemed so hopeful as she neared their
cells, and so hollow when she passed. The woman, clipboard in hand stopped in
front of Julius and Terence’s cell and looked at Julius closely. Julius
could see from her tags that her name was Uma Kleemak. Uma smiled nastily at
him and then looked down to her clipboard. “John Doe #23-B,” she chirped.
“No tags, no identification. Found on the 7th floor of Atlantis two days
ago. How you feeling?” Julius didn’t know what to say. He’d been
kidnapped, detained, drugged and treated like an animal, and she had the gall
to ask him how he was feeling? Uma didn’t bother to wait for his reply.
“Okay, let’s see what we can do to get you out of here as quickly as
possible.”
Julius
had heard enough. “Well you could start by unlocking this bloody cage!’ he
yelled. Julius was more surprised by his tone than she was. Uma took a step
back, wrinkled her nose and adjusted her glasses. There was resounding
laughter from the people in other cages. She waited for it to die down and
then in a cold bureaucratic tone continued. “Look, I just work here, so if
you want me to help you, and you want to get out of here, you will treat me
with respect. I should be on my break. If
you want to be another file that’s fine by me. I have enough work to do and
can leave you until I get back from my holidays.”
Julius
apologised profusely. He recognized himself again immediately. Uma gave him a
bitter smile, Julius wished he could give her something in return, like a
punch in the face. “As you can
see,” she droned, “we’re
understaffed. Now, your name if you know it.” She looked at Julius
expectantly. He cleared his throat. “Julius...Julius Sporne.”
Uma
smiled. “Excellent. First and last. Now Mr. Sporne, what were you doing in
the building? You work here? Visiting? Lost?”
Julius
told her everything she wanted to know. He explained about the forgotten cards
and how he had gone looking for Sally in order to get assistance. There was
nothing in the woman’s expression that gave any indication that she did not
believe him and yet she was not reaching for her keys. Julius told her that
one phone call to Clark Remborth would clear the matter up. Once again, Uma
smiled. “Oh yes, I’ll call Mr. Remborth and let him know your situation.
These things usually get cleared up in a day or two.” Julius thought that he
must have misheard her. A day or two? A day or two?
“I’m surprised that Mr. Remborth hasn’t let us know that anyone
is missing, he’s usually very good that way, but I’ll call him and in the
meantime, I’ll put your photo on file.”
With
that she was gone. As she walked away Julius heard others crying out. “Have
you heard back from Mrs. Hamilton? Has
Mr. Gormon claimed me yet? Please, call the CEO, he can vouch for me!”
Julius plunked himself down in the straw and pulled his knees up to his
chin. Clark would come and get him and then he would go home, take a bath,
call a lawyer and never, never set foot in Ultracorp country again.
Terence
offered him a bowl of dried cereal. “Relax Julius. Mr. Remborth collects all
of his people. You’ll be fine. Christ, I should be so lucky. I’ve been
here 5 days...5 days Julius. Time is running out.” Julius tried to reassure
him but Terence was inconsolable. “You don’t understand, Julius. I was
working in marketing and no one up there has the time or inclination to go and
look for a lost analyst. They’ve probably already hired someone else. Mr.
Bloom isn’t going to save my ass, Julius. It’s the end of the hall for
me.” An arm from the next cage reached in to fish some cereal from
Terence’s bowl, but before it could, Terence was tearing at the flesh with
his teeth. Julius was no longer delighted to have been reunited with his
friend.
Julius
spent the next morning making mental notes for his victim impact statement and
watching the others fight, sleep and -- most disgustingly -- mate. Julius
refused to give into his surroundings. He would survive this ordeal intact and
with his integrity. A little after midday the door opened and Uma with the
clipboard entered. This time, however she was not alone. Accompanying her was
a middle-aged man in full business attire. The sneer on his face made it clear
that he was not happy to be involved in whatever the two of them were up to.
Uma ushered him up to the cages and, of course, smiled. “Take your time Mr.
Samms, and don’t worry if he’s not here, we have three more rooms.” Mr.
Samms mumbled something about “Stupid bastard engineers” and started down
the corridor. Some people took no notice, while others, desperate Julius
guessed, pushed themselves up against their bars and looked at him
plaintively. When he arrived at Julius and Terence’s cage the repulsion in
his eyes was palatable. Julius suddenly became very conscious of his soiled
appearance. Three cages later he stopped and peered into a cage and pointed an
accusatory finger at a man who was cleaning his cellmate. “Here he is, the
filthy bugger.” Mr. Samms was leaning in closer to the cage and pointing a
menacing finger at its occupant. “Wait ‘til I get you back to your office,
Franklin
. I’ve been looking for you for three days and the specs on the
Austria
plant are needed by tomorrow. That’s the last time I send you out for
coffee.”
Uma
Kleemak opened the cage and helped
Franklin
to his feet. From where Julius was sitting this
Franklin
specimen didn’t appear too excited about the prospect of being claimed. Mr.
Samms grabbed him by the ear and pulled him down the corridor and out of the
room. “Lucky son of a bitch.” Terence
mumbled.
Near
the end of the day, Uma and her smile returned again, this time with two
henchmen in tow. Together they refilled the food and water bowls. Julius asked
her if she had called Clark Renforth. She told him to be patient and enjoy his
dinner. Julius ate some cereal and wondered what had happened to Clark. Had he
gotten the message? Would he be coming soon? A couple of hours earlier a man
had been taken kicking and screaming to the end of the hall and although
nothing was said of it, Julius was certain this was not a good thing, and that
he would not be returning. The whole spectacle had upset Terence greatly and
he had remained unusually silent after it had transpired. The cage did not
remain empty for long. A few minutes later a woman, caked in dirt was dragged
in. The orderlies threw her bodily into the cage and slammed the door shut.
The new prisoner continued to scream and was treated to a quick jab with a
cattle prod. She was quiet after that. They all were.
After
a while the lights went off and the room went dark except for the red glow of
the emergency exit sign posted above the room’s only door. Everyone became a
shadow, an outline. Julius spent the night talking with Terence, telling him
all about Clark, his job and his certainty that he would be rescued. Terence
listened attentively and occasionally looked down the end of the hall in fear.
They sat and listened to the sounds around them. The night was dotted with
cries of anguish and pleas for mercy. Julius thought about dignity and self
worth, and he vowed to himself that no matter what happened he would not allow
himself to be broken. He would not plead, he would not grovel and he would not
allow them to steal his humanity. Julius was somewhat shocked by this sudden
development of character and wished that it had made itself apparent earlier
in his life. He liked the way it made him feel.
The
next morning, Uma burst into the room with her thugs lumbering behind with
buckets of soapy water that would serve the dual purpose of waking and
cleaning the chattel. Uma consulted her ubiquitous clipboard, checked her
watch and started to walk toward Julius and Terence’s cage.
And
then Clark entered. He looked magnificent, even though he was covering his
nose and mouth with a handkerchief. Uma turned from in front of Julius’s
cage and asked Clark to come forward. Julius noticed Clark hesitate. It
appeared as though he was having second thoughts. The other prisoners were on
their feet now, crying out for him to save them. The room got louder and
louder. The henchmen growled, but the bedlam would not cease. Uma smiled, it
was a smile that Julius had grown to hate. It seemed to Julius that Uma
enjoyed making upper management visit the seamier side of Ultracorp’s
bestial belly. At last, Clark puffed up his chest and slowly strode down to
join Uma in front of Julius’ cage. Julius stood up, brushed himself off and
tried to look as dignified as possible. Julius stared at Uma with the purest
of hostility and, remembering his vow from last night, quietly told her in no
uncertain terms that once Clark Remborth heard tale of the indignities that he
had endured, she would wish that she had never heard of Sub Base 9.
Uma
Kleemak’s smile melted into a snarl of contempt, aimed directly toward
Julius.
When
Clark arrived, he did not look into the cage, but rather addressed himself to
Uma. “Let’s get this over with,” he said, still covering his face with
the hanky. Uma looked at Julius uneasily. “You said that a Julius Sporne was
down here? Well hand him over and let me get the hell out of this hellhole.
He’s been gone for four days. Four days of work gone!” Clark was building
up steam now, “This Sporne is a top man and I need him upstairs. I don’t
see why these things have to drag on as long as they do. Honestly, one phone
call could have cleared this right up.”
Uma
Kleemak, in a much more demure tone than Julius was used to, pointed to the
cage. “All I need is for you to identify him and sign these papers, Mr.
Remborth, sir.” For the first time, Clark looked into the cage. Julius was
about to apologize when Terence burst in. “Sorry, Mr. Remborth...forgot my
tags. It won’t happen again and I’m ready to get back to work.”
It
was a feeble ploy and Julius was going to put an end to it now. “Mr.
Renforth” he said, “it’s me...”
Clark
Renforth seemed puzzled. His eyes moved from Julius to Terence and then back
again. Julius smiled. Clark knew him, he would recognize him. Julius became
worried after Clark gave the pair another confused glance. Julius didn’t
like the way this was developing. Terence, recognizing that his feeble ploy
was not as feeble as he had originally imagined started to rattle off the
details that Julius had provided him with the night before. He spoke of
Clark’s collection of chessboards, his fiancé, Miriam, his cat, Ginger.
Julius lunged at Terence. They both started shouting and punching at each
other. Clark stepped back from the cage, “Good God,” was all he could
muster.
Julius
turned his attention to Uma. “Tell him,” he cried, “I’m the
one...I’m the one.” Uma
responded by smiling and rapping the bars with a nightstick. Terence and
Julius fell silent. She turned to Clark. “Recognize him?”
Clark
looked at Julius, he stared into his eyes. He smiled. He pointed to Terence.
“Wash that thing off and send him upstairs. He has work to do.”
Julius
screamed. He started the moment Clark pointed at Terence and didn’t stop. He
continued while Clark walked out of the room. He screamed while Terence was
removed from the cage and he was still screaming when the orderlies were
putting the restraints on him. Uma pushed her face up to the cage and gave
Julius one last smile. “Well I guess that makes you Terence Ozolins, and
since this is day 7 for you my darling, you’re due for a trip to the end of
the hall.”
Julius
pleaded and grovelled for his humanity. He whimpered, begged, and howled as he
was ushered down the hall. He was certain that this was not a good thing.
August 22
The
Banana's
Suicide Note
Dear
World,
It was just too much to go on… Especially as a banana.
I mean, I know I’m fun and phallic and everything but in the end
that’s not nearly enough.
People tell me I have plenty to live for… They say, “Hey banana, looking
good! Way to be the most versatile of all fruits.”
But that doesn’t stop the waves of depression.
Things have, frankly, become intolerable.
I now find myself crying at everything. Why just last night I watched a
Marx Brothers' film and wept because Harpo couldn’t talk.
That’s not good. My
doctor says it’s because I suffer from a natural sugar imbalance.
A sucrose, fructose, glucose thing.
I dunno… All I can say
for sure is that ever since Karen left, things have only gotten worse.
By the time you read this I’ll probably be covered in brown splotches and be
all soft and horrid. Please
remember me as I used to be.
Okay, well, I guess I should say something profound for my last words…
But that’s not going to happen so I’ll leave you with this…
If, when I’m cut down, you should slip on me, please laugh, because
after all, it’s a funny gag.
This Week's 10 Fun
Search Terms for Avery Ant
The following are this
week’s favorite 10 search queries people used to get to www.averyant.com
(really!)
are george bush and laura bush getting a divorce
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site de talibant
Last Christmas is so 2005...
Only 112 Shopping Days Left Until Xmas!
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